Missing
by Ritsu Arasashi
Summary: Ever wonder if anyone would miss you if you left? Matt does every day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi, hi! Strawberry-Blond Kunoichi here! I got this idea listening to "Missing" by Evanescence. Me, being me, thought **_**I wonder if Matt ever thought about if anyone would care if he left…**_** and this little brainchild was born. *shrugs* That's where the title's from, and the theme kinda carries through it (I think. ^^;) Anyway, enjoy!**

**Oh, and I don't own "Missing", that belongs to Evanescence and connected recording companies, or Death Note. Sadly. :(**

July 20, 2002 8:39 p.m.

I don't know why I'm doing this, really. Linda said writing in her diary helps her work out her problems, but… Mello always says diaries are for pansies. Doesn't matter. I wonder if anything really matters anymore. If anyone even cares. I wonder, if I left, would anybody miss me? Would anybody even care? I don't think they would. Sometimes, I wonder if they notice anything at all. Mello surely doesn't. When we were little, back when we first became friends, I used to wear blue t-shirts and khaki shorts because Mello said blue looked good on me. About a year ago, I started cutting. When I did, I stopped wearing what I'd always worn. I traded in blue and khaki for blue jeans and stripes. Surely you'd think that my best friend would notice such a thing, right? Wrong. He's too worried about that stupid brat, Near. There _are_ more important things than that little albino brat. More important than getting top marks. That jerk just needs to realize it.

God, I don't know why I did this. It just makes me even madder than I already was.

Oh! Mello's here now, don't need to give him another thing to rag me about. Later. (Maybe.)

Matt

July 23, 2002 12:04 p.m.

God, this day sucks already. The alarm didn't go off this morning so Mello automatically decided it was my fault and cussed me out. Then, going to lunch about twenty minutes ago, I tried to apologize about the alarm. Even though it _had_ been my turn to make sure the alarm was set, he, of all people, knew that I wasn't feeling well and turned in early. Despite that, he still says it's my fault and he cussed me out again. I couldn't take it, so I went back to our room, where I am now. Why does he have to be that way? Why am I always the one that gets blamed for everything?

[_There are smudges on the page. Perhaps he was crying as this was written?_]

What's happened? To me? To Mello? To _us_?

[_There are more smudges._]

God, I might as well kill myself. It's not like anyone cares. Mello doesn't. I know he won't miss me. All that matters to him are his bloody chocolate bars and being better than Near. I thought Mello was my friend. I thought he cared. I was wrong.

Matt

July 23, 2002 6:42 p.m.

God, I want to die right now. Mello came back to our room earlier and asked me why I was being a brat. Honestly? I was trying to avoid getting punched. I simply mumbled an apology and he reached over and slapped me. I asked him what he did that for and he just laughed, saying I needed to stand up for myself. Of course, when I agreed with him, he slapped me again and called me a crybaby. We started arguing and cussing until he told me just to leave, because he didn't want to see my pansy behind any longer. I told him to go screw himself and left. Right now, I'm huddled up in the storage room with just my journal and a flashlight. I know I'm gonna need the flashlight soon if he doesn't come. He's always come to get me before though. We can't have grown that far apart…could we?

Matt

July 24, 2002 8:13 a.m.

I can't believe it. We've grown so far apart that he no longer cares. Maybe we were never that close in the first place and it was simply my imagination.

Matt

July 24, 2002 9:08 a.m.

Teacher woke me up in class just now. Asked me what was wrong and I told her I hadn't slept well last night. When she asked why, I told her that Mello and I had gotten into an argument. She simply nodded and told me to go to the library, and if I wanted to talk to her after class, she was coming back to see me. So…here I am. In the library. With about an hour on my hands. I'm going to sleep. I barely slept at all. Later.

Matt

July 25, 2002 10:49 p.m.

I didn't tell her why we argued. I left before she came back. I'm back in our room, but I can tell I'm the only one that cares to remember what happened. Mello's just sitting there studying, like that day never happened. And somehow, that hurts more than if we were still yelling at each other.

He thinks I'm doing homework. Really, I kinda am. Teacher gave me a paper to do. Yeah, she understood why I was asleep, but she still had to reprimand me for it. Only thing is, it has absolutely nothing to do with literature. I have to write a paper on mental, emotional, and physical health and how they are connected. I wonder if she knows what happens between Mello and myself? Wouldn't be hard to figure out. Sometimes, our shouting and cursing wakes up the entire hall. I'm surprised Roger hasn't separated us already. Then again, the only free room is with Near…

Oh, well. I'm going to sleep now. Now, whose turn is it to set the alarm again? Ah, screw it, I'll do it anyway. Knowing Mello, he'll forget and we'll have a repeat of a few days ago. I don't think my heart or body can take that again.

Matt

August 1, 2002 7:20 a.m.

The closer it gets to Mello's birthday, the more of a brat he becomes. He's only turning 13, but he acts like he's succeeding L. And he yells at me all the time. "Matt, pick up your clothes, don't be a slob." "Matt, your game's annoying, turn it off. I'm trying to study." Or my _favorite_: "Matt! Try harder. I'm surprised you're still third, you never study. I don't know how we're even friends." Really? Before, marks had nothing to do with us being friends. We were best friends and it didn't matter that I sat around playing games while he studied. Was that all just an act? Yeah, he'd tell me I need to try to study, but he didn't nag constantly. Maybe, we never were friends and he was just pretending to be. Sometimes I wonder. Does he even like me? More than that, does he realize how very much he means to me?

Matt

December 1, 2002 9:22 a.m.

It hadn't been too bad lately, but today was horrible. It seems Mello's insatiable as of late. I tried to bring him chocolate this morning, and he snatched it from me and kicked me in the stomach. Of course, it was completely unprovoked. I landed on my butt and looked up at him, hiding the hurt I felt behind the uncaring mask I'd put up. He just looked down at me with the slightest raise of an eyebrow, almost as if he was just waiting for me to react. I didn't. I simply touched my stomach gently and got to my feet, grabbed a couple of books and left. I had to study anyway. Yes, I actually _do_ study. Stupid git's just too caught up in being a selfish brat to notice.

So, that's what I'm doing now. Studying. I can't take this anymore. I can't. I can take the beatings when he's mad. But to kick me when I give him something he would have demanded in just a few minutes? I can't take that. My heart can't take that.

Matt

December 1, 2002 11:56 p.m.

I can't even stay in this room any longer. Mello's asleep, so I'll still have to be quiet. I'm leaving this journal here so that, maybe, if there just happens to be one person, just one, that actually cares about me, they'll come find me. I won't be anywhere in Wammy's, not even in the storage room, though only Mello knows I go there. I'll be somewhere nearby, though. Now if only someone cared enough…

Matt

[_The entries end here; the remaining pages are blank._]


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up that morning and it was like any other, at first. I sat up and yawned and stretched. The first thought that crossed my mind though, was, _Something's missing…_ I glanced over at Matt's bed and realized he wasn't there. At first, I shrugged it off, thinking that maybe he was in the bathroom or something. It was only after I'd gotten dressed and brushed my hair when it hit me. Matt _never_ went to the bathroom in the mornings. And his bed was still made from where I'd made it the night before.

"Oh, God…"

My books went crashing from my arms and just barely missed my feet as I ran out of our room, the door slamming back against the wall. I barreled into Roger's office, no doubt scaring a few years off the old coot. "MATT'S MISSING!"

Roger looked up at me irritably. "Mello, what have I told you about inside voices?"

"That's not the point," I panted. "I can't find Matt anywhere, and his bed's still made up from where I did it last night."

Roger sighed. "Mello, what have I also told you about jumping to conclusions? Perhaps Matt is simply in the bathroom. Did you even stop to think of that?"

I shook my head angrily. Why didn't the old geezer ever get it? "No. Matt _never_ goes to the bathroom in the mornings. And besides, I made his bloody bed last night, and it _hasn't_, repeat _has not_ been slept in. On top of that, Matt sat on the floor all last night."

"Did you two have an argument last night?"

God, sometimes… "No, Roger," I said angrily. "We didn't even talk to each other."

"I see," he said calmly. He was used to my mood swings, the whole house was really, and more than once he'd had to pull me off of someone that had made me mad. Unless it was a justified anger, like now. When I had a valid reason to be angry, he didn't stop me unless the person I was pummeling was in danger of not ever waking up afterwards. "Well, come along; let's see if we can find him."

We turned Wammy's upside down, literally. We searched everywhere, and there was still no sign of Matt. I was getting worried now, extremely worried. I could feel my throat tightening as the tears welled up in my eyes. Somehow, I felt responsible for my friend's disappearance. He'd been acting really queer as of late, and not that kind of queer either, perv. To me, being raised in England, _queer_ means _strange_, thank you very much.

Roger stopped and I could tell this was putting a strain on him. He wasn't as young as the children he took care of. "Mello…" he said. "Can you think of anywhere we haven't checked that Matt might be?"

I started to shake my head _no_, but then I remembered. "The storage room."

We checked. I searched that entire bloody room; there was no sign of him. I couldn't help it then, I felt the tears coming and I couldn't stop them. So what if I was almost thirteen? One of my closest friends appeared to have just disappeared without a trace.

I felt Roger set a hand on my shoulder and squeeze gently. "Let's go talk to his teacher, Mello. She may be able to tell us something."

I nodded and tried to dry my eyes as I followed him to the teacher's office. Walking in, the first thing I noticed was that it smelled like ginger. I rather liked that smell, the only problem was that it reminded me of Matt and I felt the tears coming again.

"Oh, Mr. Roger," she said, looking up as Roger cleared his throat. Her eyes fell on me. "And Mello, dear. To what do I owe this visit?"

"I can't find Matt!" I burst out tearfully.

"You can't find him?" she asked curiously.

"No," I said. For some reason, her question didn't annoy me. Probably because she looked out for Matt, just like I was failing to do right now. "Roger's helped me look, but we can't find him anywhere!"

"I see. Well, when did you see him last?" she said gently as she got up from her armchair to fix some tea. "One lump or two?"

"Last night, about 11:30, when I went to bed. And two, please."

"Mm. Do you think he disappeared this morning?" She offered me a cup of tea.

"No, ma'am," I answered, accepting the cup with a small nod of thanks. I sipped it a bit before continuing. "He never makes his bed, and I was tired of it. So, I made it last night. He didn't sit on his bed at all last night, and it was still made this morning."

She offered some tea to Roger, which he politely declined, saying he had to attend to some things, and left us. She poured her own tea and motioned for me to sit down in the armchair across from her, which I did. "Have you two been arguing?"

"No, he hasn't really said much at all lately. I think he's mad at me about something, but I don't know what," I answered quietly.

"Could it have anything to do with what happened in July?"

My eyes widened in shock. "July? What happened then?"

"He'd fallen asleep in my class on a, I believe, Wednesday. July 24, if I remember correctly. I asked him why he was so tired and he said he hadn't slept well the night before because you two had been arguing. Remember now?" she asked, sipping her tea.

July 24? Then we'd have argued… "We did have an argument on the night of the 23…" I said quietly, my tea now forgotten. "Because the alarm didn't go off and we were running late…" The tea cup fell from my hand and shattered on the floor, tea splattering across the carpet. I'd slapped him, twice. And cussed him out more times than I could count… I stood up numbly. "Um, I'm really sorry, but can I go? I-I need to think about something."

"Of course," she said, nodding understandingly. "Take care, Mello."

"You, too!" I called over my shoulder as I ran back to mine and Matt's room.

I came in and shut the door behind me. I sat down on my bed and put my head in my hands. When had Matt first started acting weird…? Oh, God, I can't even remember. Was it July? When was it?

I stayed in my room for the next three days. Lying on my back on my bed, I stared up at the ceiling, trying vainly to piece together some clue. I had to find Matt soon; he'd already been gone three days.

Something different...That he didn't used to do when we were little… Then, I remembered. Within the past few years, Matt made it a habit of hiding things that were important to him because I seemed to have a penchant for throwing things when I was mad, and they usually ended up being his games or controllers and they normally ended up being chucked at his head.

_Yes!_ That was it. If he left any clues, they were bound to be hidden; he wasn't ranked third for nothing.

I got up and started digging around in his drawers. Striped shirts and blue jeans. Nothing overly important. _Wait—Matt used to wear blue t-shirts and khaki shorts when we were little. What's with the stripes now? And they're long sleeves. Odd._

When I finally gave up on the dresser drawer, I plopped down on his bed. It still smelled like him…that made me wanna cry now. I missed him terribly. I reached over and picked up his pillow, intending on pulling it against my chest and breathing in his scent until I was crying like a baby. My plan was interrupted, however, when a small leather-bound book fell out of his pillow and landed between my feet on the floor. "What the-" I set his pillow back down and picked the book up carefully. Opening it up to the first page, I recognized Matt's handwriting instantly. He has a really odd way of writing, sort of a mix between a scrawl and script, almost. It's kinda cool, really. I realized I was reading Matt's diary. It felt sort of underhanded and wrong, but if I was going to figure out what happened to him, what better way than to find out by his own hand?

_July 20, 2002 8:39 p.m._

_I don't know why I'm doing this, really. Linda said writing in her diary helps her work out her problems, but… Mello always says diaries are for pansies. Doesn't matter. I wonder if anything really matters anymore. If anyone even cares. I wonder, if I left, would anybody miss me? Would anybody even care? I don't think they would. Sometimes, I wonder if they notice anything at all. Mello surely doesn't. When we were little, back when we first became friends, I used to wear blue t-shirts and khaki shorts because Mello said blue looked good on me. About a year ago, I started cutting. When I did, I stopped wearing what I'd always worn. I traded in blue and khaki for blue jeans and stripes. Surely you'd think that my best friend would notice such a thing, right? Wrong. He's too worried about that stupid brat, Near. There __are__ more important things than that little albino brat. More important than getting top marks. That jerk just needs to realize it._

_God, I don't know why I did this. It just makes me even madder than I already was. _

_Oh! Mello's here now, don't need to give him another thing to rag me about. Later. (Maybe.)_

_ Matt_

The stripes… he was cutting… God, it makes sense now. How could I _not_ notice that? He's my best friend; he's like my little brother. There are more important things. _He's_ more important than being the best, why could I not realize that?

_July 23, 2002 12:04 p.m._

_God, this day sucks already. The alarm didn't go off this morning so Mello automatically decided it was my fault and cussed me out. Then, going to lunch about twenty minutes ago, I tried to apologize about the alarm. Even though it __had__ been my turn to make sure the alarm was set, he, of all people, knew that I wasn't feeling well and turned in early. Despite that, he still says it's my fault and he cussed me out again. I couldn't take it, so I went back to our room, where I am now. Why does he have to be that way? Why am I always the one that gets blamed for everything?_

[There are smudges on the page. Perhaps he was crying as this was written?]

_What's happened? To me? To Mello? To us?_

[There are more smudges.]

_God, I might as well kill myself. It's not like anyone cares. Mello doesn't. I know he won't miss me. All that matters to him are his bloody chocolate bars and being better than Near. I thought Mello was my friend. I thought he cared. I was wrong._

_ Matt_

This was the day of our argument. He didn't…he didn't deserve that…he doesn't deserve to be treated like a dog. _I_ was the one that told him to go to bed because he didn't feel well; I could have at least made sure the alarm was set. Why _do_ I have to be the way I am around Matt? Why do I have to blame him for everything? What _has_ happened to us? Matt, oh, Mattie, please tell me that's not what you did, please. I _do_ care and I _do_ miss you. I miss you terribly.

_July 23, 2002 6:42 p.m._

_God, I want to die right now. Mello came back to our room earlier and asked me why I was being a brat. Honestly? I was trying to avoid getting punched. I simply mumbled an apology and he reached over and slapped me. I asked him what he did that for and he just laughed, saying I needed to stand up for myself. Of course, when I agreed with him, he slapped me again and called me a crybaby. We started arguing and cussing until he told me just to leave, because he didn't want to see my pansy behind any longer. I told him to go screw himself and left. Right now, I'm huddled up in the storage room with just my journal and a flashlight. I know I'm gonna need the flashlight soon if he doesn't come. He's always come to get me before though. We can't have grown that far apart…could we?_

_ Matt_

God, Matt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have slapped you. I knew you were avoiding an argument, but I didn't like it. _I_ was the one being a brat. I've always been the brat. I should have come and got you, Matt, I really should have. But I was being a brat, and I wanted things my way. I did always come get him before. Matt, I'm sorry.

_July 24, 2002 8:13 a.m._

_I can't believe it. We've grown so far apart that he no longer cares. Maybe we were never that close in the first place and it was simply my imagination._

_ Matt_

I _do_ care, Matt. I truly do. I just…I'm too much of a stubborn brat at times. Too much of a stubborn brat to see my best friend's heart breaking…because of me…

_July 24, 2002 9:08 a.m._

_Teacher woke me up in class just now. Asked me what was wrong and I told her I hadn't slept well last night. When she asked why, I told her that Mello and I had gotten into an argument. She simply nodded and told me to go to the library, and if I wanted to talk to her after class, she was coming back to see me. So…here I am. In the library. With about an hour on my hands. I'm going to sleep. I barely slept at all. Later._

_ Matt_

I'm so sorry. I always nagged you about your grades…To think I was the cause of some of the slip…

_July 25, 2002 10:49 p.m._

_I didn't tell her why we argued. I left before she came back. I'm back in our room, but I can tell I'm the only one that cares to remember what happened. Mello's just sitting there studying, like that day never happened. And somehow, that hurts more than if we were still yelling at each other._

_He thinks I'm doing homework. Really, I kinda am. Teacher gave me a paper to do. Yeah, she understood why I was asleep, but she still had to reprimand me for it. Only thing is, it has absolutely nothing to do with literature. I have to write a paper on mental, emotional, and physical health and how they are connected. I wonder if she knows what happens between Mello and myself? Wouldn't be hard to figure out. Sometimes, our shouting and cursing wakes up the entire hall. I'm surprised Roger hasn't separated us already. Then again, the only free room is with Near…_

_Oh, well. I'm going to sleep now. Now, whose turn is it to set the alarm again? Ah, screw it, I'll do it anyway. Knowing Mello, he'll forget and we'll have a repeat of a few days ago. I don't think my heart or body can take that again._

_ Matt_

Matt…Oh, God, Mattie… I was tearing you apart, when I swore I'd never do that, and I'd kill _anyone_ who did. I made that promise to you the day we first met…the day I first came to Wammy's…

_August 1, 2002 7:20 a.m._

_The closer it gets to Mello's birthday, the more of a brat he becomes. He's only turning 13, but he acts like he's succeeding L. And he yells at me all the time. "Matt, pick up your clothes, don't be a slob." "Matt, your game's annoying, turn it off. I'm trying to study." Or my__ favorite__: "Matt! Try harder. I'm surprised you're still third, you never study. I don't know how we're even friends." Really? Before, marks had nothing to do with us being friends. We were best friends and it didn't matter that I sat around playing games while he studied. Was that all just an act? Yeah, he'd tell me I need to try to study, but he didn't nag constantly. Maybe, we never were friends and he was just pretending to be. Sometimes I wonder. Does he even like me? More than that, does he realize how very much he means to me?_

_ Matt_

You're right, Matt. I've been a brat. A horrible, selfish, spoiled brat. I shouldn't yell at you; I know you don't like yelling. You dealt with it far too much before you met me. Why did I say that? Matt and I being friends has nothing, absolutely _nothing_ to do with marks. He's my best friend; I could care less if he was third, or twentieth. Although, I'd really have to fight with my inferiority complex if he was first. Yeah, I know it's there, but that's only _part_ of the reason that I hate Near. No, it wasn't an act. How could it be? And of course I like him. I wouldn't have agreed to room with him if I didn't, and believe me, Roger was sure we would never get along. 'Cause see, Matt's personality, usually gets under my skin. Matt's just Matt though. I could care less about his personality; he's my best friend. I can't believe I made him think I didn't like him; that I made him think I was simply pretending to like him. How could I do that…to the boy I'd give my life for? How much I mean to him? I know he means the world to me, I'm just horrible at showing it. What I mean to him though…he's said many times since we met that, were there a God, he'd thank him for the angel he sent to free him from the torment. I knew he meant me; _I'm_ the angel God sent to save him…For him to say that, I must mean the world to him and more.

_December 1, 2002 9:22 a.m._

_It hadn't been too bad lately, but today was horrible. It seems Mello's insatiable as of late. I tried to bring him chocolate this morning, and he snatched it from me and kicked me in the stomach. Of course, it was completely unprovoked. I landed on my butt and looked up at him, hiding the hurt I felt behind the uncaring mask I'd put up. He just looked down at me with the slightest raise of an eyebrow, almost as if he was just waiting for me to react. I didn't. I simply touched my stomach gently and got to my feet, grabbed a couple of books and left. I had to study anyway. Yes, I actually __do__ study. Stupid git's just too caught up in being a selfish brat to notice._

_So, that's what I'm doing now. Studying. I can't take this anymore. I can't. I can take the beatings when he's mad. But to kick me when I give him something he would have demanded in just a few minutes? I can't take that. My heart can't take that._

_ Matt_

Why did I do that? And why didn't he say something? I meant it only as a joke, but I went too far. I didn't kick him hard; it was just a love tap, but he didn't take it that way. I shouldn't joke like that; he's always shied from physical contact because of his abusive past. I tackled him in a bear hug once, when we were seven, and he screamed and started crying because he thought I was going to hurt him. I shouldn't have kicked him, so why did I? I really am a selfish brat…

_December 1, 2002 11:56 p.m._

_I can't even stay in this room any longer. Mello's asleep, so I'll still have to be quiet. I'm leaving this journal here so that, maybe, if there just happens to be one person, just one, that actually cares about me, they'll come find me. I won't be anywhere in Wammy's, not even in the storage room, though only Mello knows I go there. I'll be somewhere nearby, though. Now if only someone cared enough…_

_ Matt_

[The entries end here; the remaining pages are blank.]

Matt…Mattie…oh God, why couldn't I see you were trying to reach out to me? _Why_? Why could I not see what was in front of my face the whole time? You always listened to me, even if I was just whining about Near being better than me. You always gave me a shoulder to cry on. You always pulled my spirits up when I felt down. Why couldn't I do the same for you?

I flipped through the rest of the book. Blank. But, it did help. It showed me what a brat I'd been. "Darn it, why couldn't I see that?" I said aloud. "Was I too blinded by my hunger to beat Near?" The answer was yes. I put something trivial before one of the most important things in my life. That's what was missing. What had been missing since, if I was reading the times accurately enough, 11:56 Sunday night. I got up and set the journal on the nightstand between our beds before walking out, shutting the door behind me. I knew what I had to do now. I had to make this right.

When I got to Roger's office, I knocked on his door and waited patiently. I had to be polite. I had a crazy plan, but I knew it was the only way to get Matt back. I made a promise to him. I'd come get him should he ever feel alone. I'd already broke it once, because of my stubborn stupidity; I wasn't about to do it again. I'd keep that promise, even if it killed me.

"Come in," Roger said from the other side of the door.

"Evening, Roger," I said as I came in, shutting the door behind me.

Roger sighed. "What is it, Mello? Come to drag me all over the house again?"

"No…sir," I said. This was a struggle, to be polite to this old man. It was for Matt, though. "I had an idea, but I need your permission."

"No, you cannot set Near's room on fire," Roger said.

Dang it, I was gonna ask that in a few weeks. I struggled with the urge to slam my fist into something. "This has nothing to do with Near," I said, fighting to keep my voice calm, for Matt's sake.

"Oh?"

"I…I think I know where Matt is," I started. Before he could speak, I said, "But I'd like permission to go look for him alone."

"I was wondering why you seemed to be withholding your anger better than usual," Roger mused. "Where do you think he is?"

"Somewhere nearby," I answered. "Possibly somewhere in the woods."

"You know the children aren't allowed in the woods."

"I know, I know," I said. "But, I think, maybe I should be the one to actually find Matt." _I need to prove that I really do care…_

"Be careful," Roger warned.

"What d'ya mean?" I asked.

"We should assume that Matt has not eaten since Monday," Roger said.

"Mm-mm," I said, shaking my head. "He didn't eat at all Sunday."

"So then, we should assume that he has not eaten since Sunday," Roger corrected himself.

"But why's that a reason to be careful…Oh, wait." I remembered now. Matt tended to get hysterical when he didn't eat for a few days. It would be harder to make him believe I really wanted him to come back. "I'll be careful, Roger," I said. "So can I please go?"

Roger stared at me for a moment, while I was twisting my hands anxiously. "Very well."

"Thank you, Roger!" I had to resist the urge to hug him. I turned to leave.

"Oh, and Mello?"

"Yeah?"

"Take the rest of the week off from classes if you find him," Roger said.

"Y-yes, Roger," I answered before leaving. We were definitely going to need that time…

Dang it, where was he? I'd been searching for a while; it was already getting dark and I still hadn't found him. I was scared to try and call out for him, for fear he'd run. I didn't want him to run. I wanted to pull him into my arms and apologize, over and over again, for everything I'd done to him.

I heard a rustling noise and stopped. "Matt…?" I called quietly, against my better judgment.

The rustling stopped. It wouldn't have stopped if it had been an animal; the animal would have run. That had to be Matt. I moved quickly to where I'd heard the sound. "Matt…"

His head whirled around, and I saw how scared and…_shocked_ his eyes were. He really did believe I didn't care enough to find him, and that hurt…_horribly_. I knew my pain was nothing compared to his. "Matt, look, I know I hurt you, but—"

He flung his arms around my waist and started sobbing, clinging to my shirt desperately and burying his face against my stomach.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and touched his head gently. That was easy, I was afraid he wouldn't even want to listen to me after what I'd done to him. I noticed his grip had loosened slightly; he was trying to tell me something. I dropped down to my knees and he wrapped his arms around my neck. "What's wrong?"

"I'm c-cold, Mello," he said quietly, so quiet that, even though he was only a few inches from my ear, I could barely hear him.

"You wanna go home?" I asked gently.

He managed to nod, still shivering.

"'Kay," I said. I helped him onto my back and made my way back out of the woods. _This was easier than it should have been. God? Did you let him decide to test this now, so that it was easier for us to get by, clinging desperately to what meant the most to us, without Matt being ridiculed? If you did, thanks_, I prayed quietly.

When we got back to our room, I helped him get his feet on the floor. He still clung to me desperately, his face buried against my shoulder. We curled up under about five blankets on my bed and he burrowed against my side, whimpering softly. I stroked his hair, running my fingers through it gently, comfortingly.

We stayed like that for hours, till the moon finally peeked through our window, shining on the floor, neither of us saying a word and simply trying to enjoy the moment while we had it in our grasp. All I could hear was the quiet sound of Matt's breathing. I felt his heart beat against my side, and somehow, it made me smile, just having him there.


End file.
